


Unexpected Results

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Gen, Hand injury, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Past Pleasure Slave, Just Rescue, Limited Mobility in Hands, No onscreen noncon, Rescue and Aftermath, Severe Joint Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:34:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22418590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: Obi-Wan has gone missing, leaving Knight Skywalker distraught. Obi-Wan has been located: it's time for Anakin to bring him home.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 18
Kudos: 220





	Unexpected Results

Anakin was the one who found him.

He was hung, suspended from his wrists, toes just barely off the floor with his feet arched like a dancer, bent from their attempt to reach what they just could not.

He still wore the tatters of his undertunic, but nothing more, and as Anakin stepped into the room, he saw a burn on the back of Obi-Wan's left thigh. A brand.

And not just any...

But the mark of a pleasure slave.

When Anakin cut him down, caught him and eased him to the floor, Obi-Wan's wrists didn't look quite right.

At the time, Anakin hadn't known why.

He just knew Obi-Wan was in excruciating agony, and couldn't seem to feel the _burn_ at all. It was as if the brand didn't exist, though Anakin knew it had to carry a vicious pain all its own.

The burn was drowned out by Obi-Wan's wrists, and nothing Obi-Wan did with them allowed that pain to ease. He couldn't rest them against the ground, he couldn't hold them up, he couldn't cradle them to himself—

Fluid seeped from Obi-Wan's eyes, his skin ghastly pale, his body shivering, his teeth chattering from the pain. Obi-Wan stumbled along behind him as they got _out,_ and then bit his sleeve and screamed as the rescue shuttle's floor vibrated with the force of its engines.

That rattling went up from Obi-Wan's feet, on through.

Anakin wasn't surprised when he passed out, buckling to fall.

Anakin caught him again, and held him for the rest of the journey, thankful Obi-Wan couldn't feel it.

There was _definitely_ something wrong with Obi-Wan's wrists.

* * *

It was the healer who explained just what.

Obi-Wan had been suspended, all his weight falling to his wrists to support, for over fifteen minutes. Not _much_ longer, but _too much_ longer.

A few minutes longer.

Anakin's mind reeled and he sank shaking into a chair as he learned what it meant. Permanent, crippling damage to Obi-Wan's hands.

And if Anakin had been fifteen minutes _longer_?

He would have been dead. Asphyxiated. For every breath, he'd had to pull himself up by his warping wrists to allow his lungs to expand, but even those measures could have lasted for only so long.

“It's possible he will never escape the pain,” the healer cautioned. “We will do what we can to ensure he does not carry long-term, chronic discomfort... but it is a possibility.”

Anakin found his voice. “When you say his hands are _damaged_... how much mobility will he still have?”

And she told him.

* * *

Obi-Wan resurfaced, after the hours of delicate surgery, after the bacta and Force healing and everything anyone could do, and Anakin was there.

Obi-Wan lifted weary eyes to take in Anakin's face, and then he sighed.

“Hi,” Anakin whispered.

Obi-Wan simply shook his head.

For a long time neither could speak, they simply endured.

“Are you in pain?” Anakin asked at last, needing to know.

Obi-Wan managed a single nod.

“They'll up the killer. I'll call the—”

“Anakin.”

Anakin felt his gut flip over, knew what was coming, knew he _couldn't_ bear it—

“How bad?” Obi-Wan sounded broken, and it ripped Anakin's heart out. _Seventeen minutes._ “Don't lie. Not about this.”

Anakin squeezed his eyes shut, then forced them to open again. “U-um,” he tried, his voice trembling. “We won't know for sure until you've been in physical therapy for a while. They expect you to have a little more mobility than you have now— and you're not supposed to move just yet, that's why they're in the moulds.” The large, bulky pads encased Obi-Wan's hands, shaped just so, making it so he wouldn't absently move and damage any of the fragile reconstruction.

“But it'll just be a little,” Anakin continued, trying to swallow and finding he couldn't. “You— no more lightsabers.” Anakin shook his head as tears burned his eyes. “But between the therapy and being a little creative, they think you'll be able to take care of yourself for the most part. Learn how to shower.”

Anakin's shoulders shook, and a tear fell down his face.

Obi-Wan didn't say a word. He stared at the ceiling, expression guarded, shields so _very_ far up...

And Anakin could not bear it, could not _bear_ that Obi-Wan would face this with the grim endurance with which he had outlasted all the terrible things that had been sent his way his entire life.

But what else was there for Obi-Wan to do, if _not_ endure? Scream and weep?

It hadn't released him from anything else these past thirty-six years.

“Do you need to be alone for a bit?” Anakin asked, because maybe _that_ was what Obi-Wan needed to give up, give in—

Obi-Wan stirred, looked to him, and there was something unspeakably tired in his eyes. Not in need of sleep... but tired of _life._

“It is probably better if I'm not alone right now,” Obi-Wan murmured. “Stay with me, Anakin?”

And Anakin would. He _would._

* * *

Anakin _did._

And now, two months later, he watched Obi-Wan lost in the depths of a kata. No lightsaber, and his hands no longer had the graceful ability to bend and flow, they just ended up placed where they should be.

But Obi-Wan's legs performed, and so did his arms, and as he danced the sun glinted in his hair.

He was wearing cropped leggings, old ones that had become too worn and so had been cut into a form of shorts.

When he turned to continue his steps, Anakin winced as he saw the brand beneath the tattered edge of cloth.

While Obi-Wan had escaped molestation, he had not escaped the mark that let everyone know it's what he'd been intended for.

Obi-Wan probably had no idea the leggings weren't long enough to cover it.

Anakin sighed. He would have to find a way to let Obi-Wan know, just in case. Hopefully in a way that, if Obi-Wan already knew, wouldn't send the older Jedi into self-doubt and shame as to whether it was decorous to let it be seen.

He already fretted too much, when on negotiation missions people saw his hands and were... damaged by the sight.

_But people are used to hurts being hidden. Those who have been wounded are expected to step aside, cover up, hide, be silent._

Obi-Wan had so much to give to the world, graceful hands or pain-wracked hands, and Anakin didn't like it when Obi-Wan went silent and doubt-filled.

Obi-Wan didn't like the feel of being a burden. Didn't like that he required help for things that used to be simple.

Didn't like that maybe... maybe some things he would always need help for.

_But I will be there._


End file.
